


Abilities

by Hexiva



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Ableism, Ableist Language, Canon Compliant, Canon Disabled Character, Gen, Mutant Rights, Racism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-06 09:45:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6748759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hexiva/pseuds/Hexiva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles and Erik talk about what makes the fight for human rights different from other civil rights issues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Abilities

**March, 1963**

The camera panned across a score of white men with signs in hand, protesting desegregation. Some of the signs had racial slurs on them; others cloaked their racism in polite terms. There was anger in all of their faces.

Charles glanced away from the television set to look at Erik, sitting next to him. “If we hold ourselves to be better than the humans,” he asked quietly, “What makes us different from people like that?”

Erik made a face. “It’s not the same thing at all. Race is, is skin deep. A black man is as capable as a white man. You and I, Charles, wield power on a scale most humans can barely imagine.” He gestured expansively to the TV. “That’s real superiority, not the shallow lies these racists make up.”

Charles raised his eyebrows and looked at Erik skeptically. Sometimes he couldn’t believe the things his friend said. He  _ knew  _ Erik was smarter than this. “That’s it? We’re better than them because we have power? Surely you’re not arguing that might makes right.”

“It’s not about _right,”_ Erik insisted. “It’s about . . .” He searched for a word. “Responsibility. We hold the power, Charles, and that means it’s up to us to bring about a better world. Here.” He stood abruptly, and gestured to Charles to follow him to the window. Charles followed him and looked out the hotel window at the street below.

“Look at them, down there,” Erik said, with soft disdain. “Scurrying about their daily routine like ants. What do they see?” He glanced over at Charles. “What do  _ you  _ see, Charles?”

Charles stared down. The faces and clothes of the passersby were visible enough even from this height, but it wasn’t that that Charles saw. He saw a stream of minds, each as colorful and intricate and unique as the next one.

He pointed. “That woman down there, she’s afraid but she’s trying to hide it. She’s going to see her mother in the hospital . . . lung cancer, a nasty affair.” He pointed at another figure. “And that black man - he’s getting married this week, and he can’t stop thinking about his beloved bride. That blond girl, she’s lost in thought. She’s dreaming about the moon, wondering if humans will ever walk its surface. She wishes she could be one of them.” He turned to face Erik. “In short, Erik, I see people, no better or worse than any other people.”

“Exactly,” Erik said, as if Charles had made his point for him. “You see everything. You see their lives, their thoughts, their natures, all at a glance.” He looked down at the street, his eyes cold. “And I see in them the forces that bind the world together. Electricity sparking in their brains and iron running through their blood. And what do they see?” He raised his eyebrows at Charles.  “Nothing but what’s right in front of them. That perspective, Charles, that power, is why we are greater than them.” He smiled. “Compared to us, these humans might as well be cripples.”

* * *

 

**January, 1964**

Charles sat in his kitchen. There was a wine glass in his hand, but he couldn’t reach the cabinet with the wine in it. It was just out of his reach. All he had to do was stand up to get it.

But he couldn’t.

He tossed the wine glass to the ground in a fit of impotent rage. It shattered on the floor. 

Charles wondered how he was going to get the broken glass cleaned up. He knew there were workarounds, accommodations, ways that paraplegics could live their lives as usual. He couldn’t bring himself to care. Perhaps he’d get Hank to do it.

He looked down at his legs, resting motionless in his wheelchair. The beginnings of muscle atrophy were visible. 

He ran one hand over his unfeeling thigh, and remembered Erik’s words. 

  
  
  



End file.
